Daily #6
3/6/2025
503 words

Of the thousands of stars scattered across the jet black sky, of the pin pricks of light that sparkle bright, of our ancestors connecting pictures and weaving great tales, there are many constellations to name.
The twelve zodiacs, of course. The great tale of Orion, with his belt of stars. Canis Major and Minor, respectively. But out of the many star creatures we see in the sky, my bias falls on one.
I would say Ursa Major is my favorite constellation. Not really because of anything in particular, but it’s the first constellation I was able to identify in the night sky.
The first three stars shining bright and creating an obtuse angle just so that I can recognize it at my house, at my cousins, or across the country. I remember taking a picture of the dark sky, delighting in the sheer number of stars I was able to capture, and running back inside and editing the photo to draw lines where the constellations connected.
The Big Dipper. It was the easiest to connect, big and right there in the center where we could easily see. And if you know anything about constellations, you’ve at least had to hear about the Big Dipper, right?
Whenever I walk out at dusk, with a breeze ticking my legs, and watch as the warm colors explode and fade over the horizon, there’s a blossom of awe sprouting as the screen of the world darkens, allowing each little star to shine. After the Sun has had its turn to star throughout the day and made its dramatic exit, that’s when the smaller stars can play.
Ursa Major, the Big Dipper, is relatively easy to spot with it’s closer stars and I am able to pin point other constellations based off of it. I usually spot Orion and his belt opposite of the Big Dipper. Occasionally, Scorpio. (I use an app to help me find the other constellations that I don’t quite remember.)
Ironically, Ursa Minor has never really been my constellation. I find it awfully hard to spot and for me to recognize based on the spacing of the stars. Perhaps it’s just the familiarity that comes with time and practice, or the specific angle that I look at the stars and what is covered by the first at my house? I have my preference, though comfortable, and I stick by it.
Am I opposed to learning new constellations? By no means. There’s still a wonder in seeing the sheer number of sparkles that can coat the dark sky and the feeling of smallness that comes with it. How small we are in a universe that holds so many stars. Think of it: each star we see in the sky has a bigger story. Where it’s from, their own solar systems and planets.
We, so little, are able to look up and see stories in the skies that have been laid before us. We, so little, get a glimpse into the vastness that is our world.

Daily: March 6
word count - 463 words

A lone shadow stretched across the cliff, right beside the gloomy house that no one seemed to live by. The ocean, just below, gently swayed under the moonlit sky, stars shimmering as they embrace the land with its warmth. Constellations. Yes, that's what these were called. Serving many purposes, I'm sure. But today, we are going to be looking at the story of Ursa Major.

Many moons ago, there lived a goddess by the name of Milana. She was known not only for her wits, but for her radiant appearance that left anyone stunned. Her beauty caused much jealousy between the realms, and well that is how the rift all began… Thersunux, Milana's father had many followers that looked up to him. No only that, but he was the ruler of the kingdom of Sathuni, the largest community at the time. So you might've imagined the immense amount of pressure that was put on her consistently. It was almost that need to have a perefect image within the family. Truth be told that she did indeed follow along with that.

Now, Milana had many more aspirations for the world aside from simply just studying it from the walls of her room. She wanted to explore, find a purpose, and live more than who everyone said she was destined to be. One day, Milana trudged out into the woods, ready to make her own mark in the world. However, that is when it all went wrong. Times were strung, hope was broken and a war was waged. As she raced off into the night, leaving all her belongings, she went on a soul-searching journey - or as others like to say, her last one.

That night was different, the stars had a red-ish tint to them, as a sign of danger and from that day one, everything change. For better or for worse, that's for you to decide if I'm being honest. Anyways, the tale continues.. now do beware that it goes get quite grim. The breeze was strong and it was getting chilly. Milana had nowhere to go so she continued on, riding deeper into the brush. From behind a few shrubs, she noticed embers fluttering into the air. It was a fire! Someone was definitely nearby. All she had to do was find them and convince them to tak her in. It was definitely easier than it sounded.

Nevertheless, it was getting darker by the minute and she came to the conclusion that finding this mysterious person would be better than living like her past self. That castle was a prison. It had been during all her childhood years, so why wouldn't she take the chance of trying something new when she finally got the chance?

With a powerful flap of his wings, Comet soared out from the shadow of the cliffs and into the open sky.
The night was clear, and the wind rustled through his long, pointy fur, fanning it like a flame. Under the gentle glimmer of the stars, even his scruffy gray pelt shone an elegant silver, darker on his back and lighter on his underbelly. The pale tips of his wings, ear tufts, snout, and paws were little beacons, glowing with reflected luminosity. Scattered clusters of darker gray blotches adorned his shoulders and back.
His feathers were a deep red-orange, their usually-dull hues in the process of becoming more vivid as spring approached. However, the rituals of mating season had not even crossed his mind yet. Instead, a singular purpose churned behind his intense yellow-eyed stare as he scrutinized the terrain below. /Where was it?/ His dark, round pupils dilated to let in as much of the faint light as possible. /Can't see from here. Have to go higher./
His wings, angled and sharp like a falcon's, caught the updrafts with ease, lifting him to greater heights as he steered southward with his wide, jagged tail fan. He angled his body into the wind for optimal lift. He wasn't the fastest flyer, but he knew how to be efficient. The motions came so naturally to him now, he barely had to think about it anymore.
With his mind free to contemplate the quest ahead of him, he imagined what he would do when he succeeded, flexing his front claws restlessly. /This will change everything./ His blocky snout split open in a grin, revealing sharp white canine teeth. The tufts of fur on his cheeks fluttered enthusiastically in the breeze as if they shared his excitement.
All at once, he caught a glimpse of his quarry, and his pelt spiked as if struck by lightning. It didn't look like much, merely an empty doorway in the side of a mountain, but this was supposedly the entrance to the ruins of an ancient laboratory. /Just like Eclipse said!/ Comet made a mental note to thank his brother when he got back home.
He let out a victory trill as he dove downward, pinning his wings and limbs tightly to his body and stiffening his tail behind him. The air rushing by flattened the ruff of thick, pointy fur along the back of his neck and pulled at his lips, spreading his grin even wider as he raced toward the ground.
Right before impact, he flared his wings, landing firmly on his toughened paw pads. He straightened up, fur as wild as his eyes. /Time to begin./
The doorway led into a dark cavernous space with walls too smooth and perfectly vertical to be natural. The air was still and heavy, but not altogether undisturbed. Comet sniffed the ground, sure he could detect the recent scent of another shazarxa. However, he quickly forgot about it when he looked up.
The ceiling was one giant star map.
Comet recognized it instantly. His father, Wander, had attempted to sketch similar diagrams for his whole life, but this exceeded his in complexity a thousand times over.
Hesitant to fly up to examine it for fear of crashing into something in the darkness, Comet simply stood and stared, trying to take in every detail.
“This is where the birds determined my fate,” said a voice from behind him.
Comet turned around, tail lashing. /Someone else knows about this place?/
“I was made in this lab, you know,” the voice continued. “Egg-S24. Hatched beneath the stars of the scorpion. You can call me Egg, though.”

CONSTELLATION DAILY!!!!

“Ooh! I found another group!” Zoe said with such excitement that I chuckled.

“Oh really?” I asked

“Yes! Would you like to hear their story too?” Zoe asked

“Of course!” I answered. I love when Zoe tells me about the constellation stories. She loves to make up stories for every single constellation and if she could, she would probably give every star in the sky a story. Zoe said that when she was little, her mother always told her that every group of stars has a story and since then, Zoe had been making them.

It was quiet for a few moments. No sound but an occasional fall breeze. Zoe was deep in thought, staring at the group of stars.

“I got it!” Zoe said excitedly

“Let’s hear it” I responded

“So you know the story about the warrior named Perseus that our parents used to tell us?” Zoe asked.

“Of course! Perseus was a child of Zeus who saved Andromeda from the sea monster!” I said “How could I forget?”

“Yes! Now look very close.” Zoe instructed and I did as told.

“Now, do you see the sword and Medusa’s head?” she asked and I looked very hard. At first I saw nothing but then I saw it. A young man holding a sword and Medusa’s head.

“Yes! I see it!”

“Whoa! I see another one!” Zoe said in a slight squeal

“WHOA! Really!?” I asked astounded, “What is it now!?”

“It…looks- It looks like a woman who is chained up…” Zoe said quietly

“Wait.. really?” I asked

“Yes. Wait- Maybe it’s Princess Andromeda!” Zoe remarked “And she’s right next to Perseus! You see that!?”

“Where?” I asked, wanting to see the two together.

“Right there!” Zoe said and pointed her finger, trying to show me

“Here?” I asked and Zoe took my hand and moved it the other way

“Here.” She said, and I found the group of stars that she was talking about. At first, I didn’t see much but as soon as I stopped focusing, I saw it. There it was. Andromeda and Perseus living in the night skies together.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Zoe asked

“What? The Constellations or the fact that they’re together?” I asked her

“No, the fact that even through death, two people can still be together.” She said solemnly. We sat there in silence for the next few minutes before one of them spoke up.

“I think it’s time to go.” Zoe said and waiting a few seconds before asking, “Are you coming?”

“I'd like to stay here for now.” I said.

“Really?” She asked, “It's getting cold out here”

“I'll catch up with you in a little bit” I said

“Okay, see you then!” Zoe said and as she ran off I wondered:

Would we be together through death?

{Word War}
My second one! With @–Artsy_Girl–
Word Count: 459
Minutes: 7
No prompt!
Status: ???
Notes: This is very long and rambly. You're welcome!!!

Today I will be arguing for the fact that every child deserves a chance to be in musical theater and shine on stage. And I have quite a few reasons why each child should! Also, quick disclaimer: shining on stage doesn’t have to be in musical theater. You could shine by winning a writing competition or by helping others in your community. But specifically for me, shining on stage was quite literally on the stage. When I was in 6th grade, I would never have imagined that I would be part of musical theater. But when I started musical theater in 7th grade I knew that I could never go back. Musical theater was such a great experience for me! I'm also currently in another show at my school, Shrek: the Musical, and I’m so happy that I’m in it! Anyways, last year my theater journey started at the end of August. I was part of a production called Best of Broadway, a kind of cabaret show with different songs from Broadway musicals in it. It is also kind of like a musical theater class. Although it’s also fun for more experienced actors/actresses, Best of Broadway is especially geared towards kids who are newer to theater. The class teaches you all about auditioning, singing, dancing, and of course acting. And at the end, you get to perform! Anyways, I had a lot of fun in Best of Broadway and decided to do the spring production, which was The Wizard of Oz. And I will never, ever, ever regret this! Wizard was so absolutely amazing! I met new friends, got closer with old friends, and learned even more than I did in Best of Broadway. And although I definitely failed at my audition, I ended up getting a small singing solo as the Munchkin Coroner and had the chance to fly on stage as Nikko, the lead flying monkey. Musical theater really helped me get out of my comfort zone. I never thought that I would be on stage acting before I joined, but once I did, I couldn’t imagine my life without. Musical theater not only helped me grow in my acting skills but also helped me become more confident in myself. It may seem odd to people who know me in real life, but I was honestly kind of a shy kid before I joined theater. I’ve always been an extrovert, but after I joined theater I found myself being more comfortable around other people. I also really enjoyed learning new dances and songs! I never realized that I had a good voice (apparently?) until after I got that one singing solo in the Wizard of Oz. And now, in Shrek: The Musical, I was cast as…

HERE MY TIMER WENT OFF

{Critiquitaire Entry}
Title: Another Case for the Books
Genre: Realistic (possibly historical) mystery

A scream pierced the quiet night. Glass shattered. A gunshot, and then a thud was heard as a body hit the ground, dead.
The detective surveyed the room closely, gingerly stepping around the body in the middle of the floor. He had been called to Lord Shufflebottom’s house for a reason, one seemingly simple: find the murderer. Detective John Wildingham, however, felt differently. Firstly, cases were never as simple as they looked. And secondly, the room was destroyed. Drawers were pulled out, loose sheafs of paper fluttered across the floor, and pictures were torn from the walls. But the strangest thing of all was the fact that nothing appeared to be stolen.
Detective Wildingham decided to study the victim’s body. Next to his feet, Lady Shufflebottom looked deceptively peaceful, as if she could be sleeping. Yet that was not the case. Blood poured from a gunshot wound in Lady Shufflebottom’s neck, pooling on the floor and mingling with the shards of glass surrounding the woman. She was most certainly dead. As the detective knelt for a closer look, the door creaked open. Standing in the doorway and sweating vigorously was Lord Shufflebottom. Frantically mopping at his balding head with a handkerchief, he- quite ironically, given his name- shuffled across the floor. Lord Shufflebottom, one of London’s most important lords, was a chubby, chronically red-faced man who typically lounged around his house all day, waited on by servants.
Shufflebottom was quite rich, and usually dressed in the finest apparel. However, today’s outfit was in stark contrast to his normal attire. Lord Shufflebottom was clothed in a worn-out bathrobe with a dirty pair of house shoes. A smear of something red was along the side of his lips, and as Lord Shufflebottom drew nearer, Detective Wildingham realized that it was jelly.
Lady Shufflebottom was not, as one might think, Lord Shufflebottom’s wife. In fact, she was quite unimportant. Lady Shufflebottom was a distant cousin of Lord Shufflebottom’s and he had very little emotional connection to her. Sadly, he had more connection to his paintings which had been torn down, evidenced by his running to them and almost crying over their ruined condition. Although he was busy dealing with this horrible event- that is, his ruined study- he did manage to walk over to Detective John Wildingham and give him a few tidbits of information.
Apparently, Lady Shufflebottom was just visiting for a short time. As for the reason why she was in his study, Lord Shufflebottom had absolutely no idea. Strangely enough, Lord Shufflebottom seemed to be not at all affected by the sudden death of his cousin. He almost seemed as if he were not surprised at all.
“Did Lady Shufflebottom have any enemies here in London?” Detective Wildingham asked Lord Shufflebottom.
“Not that I can think of!” exclaimed Lord Shufflebottom, who was now munching on a slice of crusty chocolate cake he had produced out of who-knows-where.
He let out a large burp, spraying crumbs of chocolate cake everywhere. Detective Wildingham ran a hand down his face and sighed. Could he cooperate with this dim-witted rich man? Alas, he had to, as he needed some money to pay the bills. Also, Lord Shufflebottom knew nothing about being savvy with money, and Detective Wildingham knew he could charge an outrageous fee for his services without being caught.
But back to the case. Detective Wildingham knew he needed to actually start working on the case- and fast. He expected that the murderer would be trying to escape town as quickly as possible, so he needed to find him (or her) fast.
After confirming a few more things with Lord Shufflebottom, Detective Wildingham taped off the room and told the maids to stay OUT of the room. Lord Shufflebottom showed him to the parlor where Wildingham’s real investigation began. He began by interviewing each of the maids. The window that the murderer had presumably climbed through was overlooked by the maid’s quarters. If anyone was up late enough, they might’ve seen the murderer climbing through the window. Sadly, this seemed to be a dead end. The maids all had about the same story: they were out late into the night at a pub. Coming home at about 2 in the morning, they were all so drunk and sleepy that they immediately fell asleep. Wildingham was frustrated.
The maids, however, did mention that Lady Shufflebottom had been acting strangely for a few days. She locked herself in her room for much of the day and rarely let the staff in to clean her chambers. The one time they were allowed in, one of the maids found a curious piece of paper on the floor. The paper seemed to be a letter, written in code. However, none of the maids had been able to translate it. They threw it out, thinking it was useless.
Next, the detective investigated the kitchen. Typically, the cook of a manor was up early in the morning, making bread or prepping the day’s meals. However, the same story was true with the chef and all the kitchen boys. The night before had been their night off, and almost every person in the house had been at the aforesaid pub. However, the cook did mention something interesting. Neither the butler nor the coachman took the night off with the rest of the help. Staying home as well, the stable boys had gone to sleep at an early hour.
The one bit of information the detective did glean was that Lady Shufflebottom had not visited merely to spend time with her cousin, as Lord Shufflebottom thought. Instead, she visited to attempt to charm him enough for Lord Shufflebottom to give her some money. She had been struggling to stay afloat financially ever since her husband had died, leaving her a widow and close to penniless.
Detective Wildingham immediately turned his efforts towards these men. The coachman was first. He claimed that after punishing the abominable stable boys, who had gotten into the kitchen and were stealing food, he was so exhausted that he fell asleep right away. And he had an alibi to prove it. The stable boys were housed right next to the coachman and therefore saw his lights turn off. And none of them had seen anything suspicious that night.
One dead end after another. This day was getting long, and Detective Wildingham was becoming discouraged. Only one person was left to be interviewed- the butler. Detective Wildingham called him into the parlor. The butler, dressed in a black suit with a dashing bowtie, had bright blue eyes, a charming smile, and perfectly gelled hair, all of which were extremely suspicious. Who knew? Much of the time, the most well-polished person was the killer.
After asking the butler a few questions, the detective had to admit that he seemed as innocent as the rest of the staff. He sighed a long, drawn-out sigh. He had absolutely no idea who could’ve killed Lady Shufflebottom.
The butler continued his story, saying, “I didn’t even hear the gunshot! To think of Lady Shufflebottom, dead. She was so kind!”
Something felt off in that sentence. But what? First of all, most of the rest of the staff had stated that Lady Shufflebottom was about as stuck-up as the rest of the lords and ladies in London. She almost always complained that her perfectly salted food wasn’t salty enough, or that her piping hot meal was much too cold. But that could just be a matter of opinion. But what was the other thing that felt off in that statement?
The detective thought and thought and thought. His mental gears turned as his brain slowly clicked the pieces together. “Wait a minute!” he yelled, startling the butler and causing the entire staff to run into the parlor.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the detective exclaimed, and then paused, for Lord Shufflebottom could be heard huffing up the stairs. While Lord Shufflebottom made his way towards the parlor, the detective took this chance to run to the telephone in the hall. He pounded in the number and called the police.
Once he arrived in the parlor, the detective continued.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the detective yelled once again. “I have figured out who the murderer is!”
Everyone in the room gasped, even Lord Shufflebottom- although that might’ve been because he was still out of breath from waddling up the stairs.
“You observed that Lady Shufflebottom was close to penniless. You mentioned that her husband had died recently. Some mentioned a secret letter in code found in her chambers. I have come to the conclusion that Lady Shufflebottom was attempting to rob Shufflebottom Manor to attempt to gain some more money for herself.”
He paused, for dramatic effect, of course.
“Yet Lady Shufflebottom couldn’t have done this on her own. Firstly, she hasn’t visited the manor enough to know the floorplan well. Additionally, Lady Shufflebottom was murdered for seemingly no reason. The only motive I have for murder would be if she had an accomplice who decided that he- or she- didn’t want to share.”
The whole room seemed to nod as Detective Wildingham explained his theories.
“So now the question is- who was the inside man? Who murdered Lady Shufflebottom? The answer is simple. It wasn’t one of the maids. And it wasn’t the chef. It wasn’t the stable boys or the coachman. It wasn’t any of the kitchen boys. That only leaves two people: Lord Shufflebottom and Mr. Butler.”
“Lord Shufflebottom may not have an airtight alibi, but he doesn’t have any motive. He wouldn’t try to rob his own house, and he wouldn’t want to murder his own cousin. This leaves only one person: the butler.”
At this point, the butler’s eyes widened and he attempted to escape the room. The tightly packed crowd made up of the household staff was too much, however, and he wasn’t able to escape from the parlor.
“The reaction of Mr. Butler further proves my point. And there’s one more piece of evidence that proves that the butler did it.”
“When I was interviewing the butler here,” (here he pointed to the butler, who was being restrained by the cook), “He uttered something that incriminated himself. You see, killers always make a crucial mistake: they know too much about the murder.”
“Mr. Butler stated, ‘I didn’t even hear the gunshot.’ Now, this may not seem like anything important. Yet here’s the thing. No one knew that Lady Shufflebottom had been shot. No one was awake to hear the gunshot. And I didn’t mention the fact that she had been shot to any of you.”
“Here lies my question: Mr. Butler, how did you know that Lady Shufflebottom had been shot?”
The butler’s face turned stark white. Just as the detective finished his sentence, a police officer in a dark blue uniform stepped into the room.
“Mr Butler- or whatever your real name is- you are under arrest for the murder of Lady Augustine Shufflebottom.”
As the detective sat in his office later that day, sipping a cup of tea and munching on a victory scone, he felt rejuvenated by another case solved. John Wildingham sat back, and sighed. Another one for the books.

maya's march swc thread!

word war prompt - “One thousand and one eyelashes blown, two thousand and twenty-one more to go” 242 words

I’ve never considered myself particularly superstitious. I don’t flinch at the sight of a black cat slinking in front of me, or card through patches of clover in hopes of finding one with four leaves instead of three. But there’s always been a single exception. Every time an eyelash has fallen to rest on my cheek or waterline, I’ve scooped it onto my forefinger- rolling it under my thumb, mascara staining my skin- and blown it away, wishing for the same thing every time. Love. The kind of love I read about in books, daydreamed about while listening to music. The kind that lives on-screen, where they’d learn French for me like Cameron, or read the whole Bible in a single night like Dave. Where I’d receive as much as I yearned to give. When I was one thousand and one eyelashes down, I met a boy. He made me feel special, seen- as though I never needed to wish again because “the one”, as they say, was right in front of me. After five days spent laughing like we were best friends, and five sleepless nights spent thinking about what we could become, I blew a dampened eyelash into the evening breeze. He wasn’t the one, and I feared it would take more than two thousand and twenty one lashes for me to find someone like him again. Someone who would stay. For now, though, all I could do was wish.

for anyone reading this wondering if it is about me! i don't do this. though it is inspired by recent events and i am a hopeless romantic, this boy was not worth it and i just kind of flick off my lashes usually. fun little trivia that everyone was definitely looking for.

Daily 3/6 - Vulpecula (based on my soon to be animated series, Universe Unleashed) - 739 words

Ever since Penumbra and her siblings had been banished from the Celestial Commune, the cat had held little faith in the language of the stars. If Space truly was a benevolent entity, she thought, she wouldn’t bear His own curse, and her siblings wouldn’t be forced to deal with its consequences. And yet, here she was, living on the spire of a mountain, far from civilization and the dreadful animals who raised her. Celeste and Nimbus didn’t mind the altitude– they naively clung to Space’s talons long after His betrayal, forcing Penumbra to watch as they turned their paws to the skies and, simultaneously– their backs on her.
Or so it felt to Penumbra. Her siblings saw their exile as a part of Space’s plan– they were closer to the stars now than ever before– and she despised it. She loved Celeste and Nimbus more than anything, but their worship of Space was nothing short of disheartening– still, as she watched them grow along with their devotion to the deity, she bit her tongue. Space was a shoulder to lean on, and as much as Penumbra hated to admit it, they needed more than just her.
One night, the sky was particularly clear– long gone were the jade-colored faux auroras cast by that Council fox’s horrid wormholes– and Penumbra found herself familiarly flank-to-flank with her younger siblings as they traced patterns in the stars with their claws. As much as she hated seeing them do it, it was comforting to walk alongside them, and to know they had stayed by her side even after they’d grown up.
Celeste raced ahead of where the other two cats were padding, her golden eyes glimmering under the moonlight.
“Look what’s bright tonight!”
Penumbra rolled her eyes, biting back a snide remark as her sister continued.
“Vulpecula. The little fox.” She motioned toward a string of stars amongst the sea of thousands with her tail.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if that was a bad omen from Space,” Nimbus added, shifting idly on his paws as he gazed up at the night sky. “Remember the last time you let a fox into your life, Umbra?”

-

In the brief time Penumbra had known Sprocket’s daughter, she had perceived the kit as quiet. Curious, maybe, but cautious. She’d never expected her to become the scrap of a fox that arrived at the mountainside two nights later, hackles raised and claws perpetually unsheathed. She was scrawny, no bigger than a cat, and yet within her sunken violet gaze, Penumbra swore she saw the fury of a wolf.
She’d introduced herself as Auri– not Aurivella, as Sprocket had formerly called her– and insisted she needed Penumbra’s help, well against the better judgment of her father. Penumbra didn’t mind opposing the will of Sprocket– she’d burned bridges with the fox long ago after he began to treat her like a pawn, using her for her powers and nothing more. She couldn’t help but feel pity for him, though, as Auri bitterly recounted how he’d abandoned her after his wife, Mari, was presumed dead, only to nearly let his daughter kill him upon their reunion.
“Your father is a peculiar fox,” Penumbra had stated, “sort of like his foreleg is caught in a steel trap. He’s stopped struggling to break free from its maw, because he’s aware that either way, he’s going to bleed.”
Auri had opened her jaws to reply, presumably scathingly, but Penumbra cut her off with a swish of her tail. The cat manifested a shard of glowing rose quartz that hovered above her paw for a few heartbeats before she closed her claws around it, placing it in a stone jar.
“I assume this is what you need from me,” she meowed plainly, handing the jar to Auri.
“Yes, but–”
“I have no wish to become to you what I was to your father in the past.” Penumbra continued. “This will be the first and last of our transactions.”
The young fox’s tail began to lash, clearly frustrated. She turned on her heels to leave, taking a deep breath before speaking.
“I am not my father, and this will not be the last you’ll see of me,” she snapped, “unless, of course, you’re happy to keep clawing up your own grave.”
As she spoke, Vulpecula shone behind her, illuminating her fur and filling Penumbra with a sense of foreboding.
Perhaps, this time, the stars were right.

♫ 03 word war - vale - 237 words - win/loss ♫

okay hi there i'm doing a quick word war so i'll give you a lovely run down about my day today
so in science we did a lab but it was pretty boring and one of the kids was being really rude to the sub and i don't know i just don't like that class at all. anyway and then we had to take a big picture thing in pe with the rest of my grade level which was so annoying and i couldn't stop laughing so i probably look atrocious lol but so does everyone around me because we all cackling lol
anyway this is a great gracie abrams so i'm going to just vibe for the last minute and a half while i type sooo my favorite color is yellow i have a dog name frankie and she's a sweetheart but my dream is to have two mini australian shepherds, both girls, named tilly and bobby and i'm going to love them to pieces because they will be the sweetest dogs everrr. i also really want pasta for dinner now that i think about it because my mom said it was fend for yourself night tonight so i might just make something random like pasta or air fryer some more dino chicken nuggets ahahah anyways they are actually rather delicious so don't even judge anyways ten seconds left i better start saying my goodbyes byeyeyeye

Critiquitaire Piece
word count - 445 words

It’s 11 o’clock at night and here you are, staring away at your to-do list filled with dozens of things you should be doing. Instead, you’re whiling away your time and an overwhelming sensation begins to creep in. Unfortunately, it’s all too familiar, I’m sure…

I have a friend who writes about 96 different things to do each night. How much does she actually end up completing though? Maybe less than 5. She then goes to bed with a feeling of dissatisfaction, as if she didn’t do anything productive. But the truth is much deeper than the surface level understanding of “success” we have ingrained into our minds, and it’s vital that we start realizing that sooner rather than later.

Society encourages us to set lofty goals, ones which may even seem unachievable, in the name of motivation. It’s time to realize that isn’t necessarily true. A 2021 study showed that out of 271 participants, each of whom set ambitious and difficult goals, only 10% ended up achieving them. This same study went on to reveal that with these results, the same participants were more likely to feel demotivated and report drops in positive emotions. This circles back to the age-old case where children are told that they can be anything they want: a princess, a cowboy, or something else that’s fantastical and impossible.

But at a certain point, just like with everything else, you have to start realizing that you can’t. And that’s when the uncomfortable truth starts to set in, the disappointment that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Goal setting does the same thing: it makes you believe in things that can’t happen, and emotionally invest yourself to the point that failing becomes equal to ripping out a part of your dreams. Simply put, if we set ourselves up against unrealistic expectations, it’s an unwinnable fight, and one which creates more collateral damage than it’s worth.

Ultimately, you have to recognize that goals do nothing for you by themselves. In fact, too many goals can even start to be counterproductive, causing more stress to just keep piling up. Remember that never-ending to-do list? Time to add on the personal project you decided to prioritize this month and the course you signed up for in the name of “self-improvement”. Oh, and don’t forget your six-page New Year’s Resolutions you never seem to get to. In a society that glorifies being busy, we have to learn to take a step back. Hustle culture is all the rage these days – from TikToks to business journals, we’re being attacked from all sides with the message that without “things to do”, we’re functionally useless.

✎ critique #1
1159 words of critique + my edits, 510 words of commentary

this is a critique for @babyyoda1546 - the original is here!

!! editing this was a little hard bc it’s a stream of consciousness and definitely important to you - but ofc it’s all my personal preference so please take this lightly if you don’t agree with things i change !!

original:

I walk up to the casket. Every step is harder than the last. Tears falling down my face like miniature waterfalls. I had hoped this day would never come, but unfortunately, all good things come to an end.

the tense is a little inconsistent here, which is what i fixed mainly, but another thing i want to touch on is cliches, whether intentional or not (such as ‘all good things come to an end’ or the ‘miniature waterfalls’ line) might draw away from your writing - i tried to do sort of a play on these cliches to sort of imply the same meaning as well :)

i also split up the paragraphs bc i felt like it had a sort of break there, and because it is the first line and should be emphasized <3

edited:

I walk up to the casket, every step harder than the last. Water falls from my eyes, streaming down my face.

Before, I had long hoped that this day would never arrive, but I know now all these things must come to an end.

original:

Countless regrets fill my head. I wish I had spent more time with him. He deserved my time, not this. I would do anything just to have him back. I wish I could have another grandpa hug. Those were the best kind. I wish we could have written our story. I always promised him that I’d work on it. I would come up with ideas, but I never put them on the page.

as this is a stream of consciousness, i managed to split up some of the repetitive parts & i scattered them around the story (like in the next paragraph), as well as paraphrase the last sentence - i also changed some tenses here and yeah that’s essentially it though !!

edited:

Countless regrets fill my head before I can stop them. I wish he were here. I wish we had more time, time to write our story, the one I’d never put to page.

original:

Then I realized I was trapped in my head again. I pushed all of my thoughts away for a moment, only to find myself standing over his lifeless body.

this is the part where i added the “regret” from before, since i thought it fit here. there was also a sudden switch to past tense here, so i changed it back to present - and basically just made it flow together & such !

edited:

Then I realize I have trapped myself in my head again. He deserves my time, not this.

I push all of my thoughts away to find myself standing over his empty body. Slowly, I inhale and force myself to reach for his hand.

original:

When I touch his cold skin, a dreadful feeling enters me. Loss. Deep, painful loss. I try to hold back my tears, but I just can’t. I remember the fun times we always had. I remember playing little games that were supposed to test my reflexes. I remember how invested you were when I talked about school or softball. You were a great listener. You would always praise me and tell me how brilliant I was or give me tips for softball. I remember our swimming lessons. I always loved those.

so i changed a lot of stuff here but not really? it’s essentially paraphrasing + more paragraph breaks. i tried to do less show/tell here since i think it’s discernable enough to know the emotions. if you have any questions about specific wording or how i wrote this, just ask <3

edited:

But when his cold skin brushes against mine, a heavy feeling rests over me, making me swallow hard as the weight settles in my throat, threatening to spill out of me.

The memories return, as always. The times we always had until we didn’t, time spent playing games to test my reflexes, his time spent listening to me whenever I talked about school or softball, or the swimming lessons I always loved. He told me me so many kind words that I’ll never hear again, not through his voice.

These scraps of these many recollections are what I cling to as I hold his hand, remembering the warmth of it.

original:

“I wish we had more time,” I sigh. I release his hand and redirect my attention to the small bouquet.

i feel like this moment is a little out of pocket from what we’re shown already in the story - it can almost be read as indifference, so i just added some more grieving here since we’re already shown kind of this side of the narrator <3 also, this sentiment (“i wish we had more time”) was already said earlier - and repeating it might make it lose its meaning as well, since it’s also somewhat a cliche.

edited:

Tears trickle past my cheeks and I hardly notice. My mouth is dry, what am I supposed to say to him anymore now that his eyes won’t look at me?

The bouquet rests stiffly in my other hand, the one that isn’t holding his, and my fingers shake as they close around the stem of the first flower.

original:

The first flower, a forget-me-not. A promise that I will never forget you. That I will hold your memory close to heart. That I will remember to write our book. That I will remember the dad jokes, the hugs, and the encouragement. A promise that I will remember. I lay the forget-me-not on his chest.

The second flower is a yellow tulip. In remembrance of your smile and laughter. I can’t help but smile when I think of you. Your terrible dad jokes always got a groan out of the family. I remember every time I gave you a hug, you’d always tease me and say how it wasn’t tight enough. That last hug, you didn’t say it. I lay the tulip on his chest.

I grab the next four flowers from the bouquet. A pink camellia, representing my longing for you. A purple hyacinth, representing my sorrow and pain. A dark crimson rose, representing my mourning and how much I miss you. And lastly, a willow flower, representing my sadness. These four flowers are the pain I feel now that you’re gone. I wish more than anything that we had more time. My heart hurts like there is a hole in it. Tears are still falling down my face. I want to believe you’ll pop out from behind a chair and yell “April Fools!!!" but that won’t happen. I don’t want to believe you’re gone. My heart feels as if it’s been shattered into a million pieces. I lay the four flowers down on his chest.
The next two flowers are a zinnia and a periwinkle. Both for the friendship-like bond we shared. We had a lot in common. You were like the friend I could never have. When you passed, I felt like a part of me died with you. I lay the two flowers on his chest.

Then I grab a lavender flower. It represents the relief I feel knowing you are no longer hurting. You are in heaven with your parents and grandma’s parents and God. I’m glad that you are no longer in pain. I lay the lavender down on his chest.

“I love you more.” I say as I lay down the final flower, a red chrysanthemum.

i feel like this part may be a little repetitive, like with the “counting” and the similar wording. i tried to change this up a little, but really, this is the most similar part of the piece because i really liked how this was expressed <3 the only things i really did were paraphrasing & such.

edited:

I study the faded blue petals of a forget-me-not. It is a promise to never forget you, to hold your memory closer to my heart. To remember to write our book, to keep you forever alive in my memory.

Next, I reach for a yellow tulip, and I’m momentarily reminded of the warmth of your laugh. Despite my tears, I can’t help but smile. Your dad jokes always got a groan out of my family, and you’d always say my hugs weren’t tight enough, at least, until the day you didn’t.

I carefully lay out the next four flowers from the bouquet with the others. A pink camellia, my desperate longing that you’ll still open your eyes. A purple hyacinth, my sorrow and pain and so, so many tears. The petals of a dark crimson rose, the color of my mourning and the missing of you. And a willow flower, my sadness.

When I set them down, my heart aches like there is a hole in it, in giving this all up to you, and maybe there is.

Because even though I’m looking down at you, I’m still convinced you’re not gone, that this is all some terrible joke. And the flowers are making it real–too real–but it has to be, if I’m supposed to let you rest.

The next flowers are a zinnia and a periwinkle. Both for the friendship we shared that has died with you, leaving a phantom pain that still stops me from letting me let go of your freezing hand.

Then I take the lavender flower, for the relief and gladness of knowing you are no longer hurting. Because you are in heaven with your parents and your grandma’s parents and God and all of the angels.

And, maybe, that is a kind of release through all of this grieving. Because you won’t have to worry about anything. Not anymore.

“I love you more.” I whisper as I give up the final flower, a red chrysanthemum.

It’s then that I finally let his hand fall back to clasp over his chest, wipe my misty eyes, and move myself forward.

so that’s all for my critique ! there wasn’t really that much to work with for this one, so here’s an overall summary: if you prefer shorter sentences, that’s completely fine - just try to vary the structures as well for some added flow + interest! the same thing w/ repetition & cliches - you can use these, but not in excess. if you have any other questions, just ask me on my profile !! thanks for letting me critique this :)

my main thread

☀ Muxa :: Weekly #1 ☀
★ Worldbuilding YEAAHH BABBYYYYYYYYY ★

Notes for each part will be at the end! but I gotta sleep lol so I'll put em in the morning

★ Part 1: Culture
Word Count: 636
Within the realm of Ieunqa, the descendants of the eternes and the vyerizas exist united. The society was built up from the ashes of the phoenixes before them united underneath the last eternes. Unebia was a nation with a bright future, blessed by Ekeris, the Gorza Yuimeke, and Saria, the Yuyiz of Ieunqa.
For years, they celebrated on the fourth day of Kyrlios in song and dance for they had slain the darkness. It was a great festival of fire, representing the light that had warded off the darkness. On every day of birth, they sang, and for those that grew up to leave the nest they also sang cheerfully. In death, candles were lit as they had been when their ancestors had finally been laid to rest.
They praised the Phoenix who had finally came to bring them back to the permanence that they once had. Among the last few of her kind, an eternes, had rescued them as many writings of old vyerizas had foretold. Statues had been made in her honor, and she was worshipped as if she were some sort of god. She hosted many festivities in her own honor as the one who assembled and united the many vyeriza factions like it had happened before with the Phoenixes of old.
Today was a special day as it had been five years since the darkness was slain. Explosions of fire ignited in the starlit sky. Young bymians fluttered about chasing each other with flames in their mouths, their wings still hadn’t grown in fully yet.
The Phoenix gazed upon her people with delight at the celebration. It was a special occasion dedicated to the heroes, including herself. It was a particularly special occasion not because of the number five, but also because she had managed to gather the leaders of the other allied nations within Ieunqa.
There were many different faces amidst the crowd. Tyinai had arrived from the caverns beneath, as well as some that had settled in Iralux in the south. There were also the neiamas, kalfens, and nymes from Nuvana in the west. Travellers from Xaimid had arrived earlier on in the day, along with the Shirema who kept watch over the frigid snowscape as well as the keeper of Ieunqa’s astral pathways. People from all corners of the realm of Ieunqa, as well as some from beyond, were gathered there for the celebration of victory.
The night was filled with songs, dance, and a culmination of other cultural elements.
Xaimid had a special tradition involving the exchanging of seeds dropped from the Shina Tree within the capital city of Xaimid. It grew into a smaller tree that was a miniscule source of warmth that required special care involving enchanted water.
Within Iralux, it was spectacular theatrical performances with dramatic costumes and attire. Many within Iralux enjoyed putting on plays and gigantic performances with an exaggeration put onto storyline, the costumes, as well as the effects of the stage. There was a stage featuring the top performers who were re-enacting the final battle against the darkness, though it was heavily dramatised and written to be a spectacle.
Magic displays were prevalent in Nuvana. There were many skilled magic users that came from Nuvana that offered to enhance the fire shows and other spectacles by using their own power. Due to the sheer size of Nuvana, there was a wider variety of cultural elements that they had brought into the celebration: the dances from the Ormuth, kyra games from the Kolis, and then the various fighting sports of the Toli – which did intersect with the magical display traditions.
Eventually, the night fell into a close. The constellation of the Phoenix shone amidst the sea of stars above. Fireworks of many colors flashed in the sky, among other colorful magical spectacles.

★ Part 2: World
Word Count: 264


The stars all tell a story of the past as the mark of the lifebearer. As the cycle moves on, this world remembers all those that once walked upon it; the dreamweaver’s needle, the phoenix in flight, the fallen prince, the ember warden. These things were all once apart of and destroyed by the cycle that we live in.
Unebia
One of the nations within Ieunqa, the fifth realm of the 7th cycle. It consists of mostly mountainous and hilly topography. Towards the east of it are unexplored lands overtaken by a powerful magic.


Ruined kingdoms of old lie in waste against the rocky cliffsides where land meets water. There is no denying the history of this land. Coastal villages flourish from the constant trade through the ports.


Within the caves beneath, the depths are rich with magic and life. An undercity grew to escape the shadows of the land above. Soon, tribes formed and then nations abound afterwards. A land once divided, united.
Re-Anda
One of the ancient nations of mostly land-dwelling species that fled to the caverns beneath Ieunqa to flee from the darkness. Re-Anda resides beneath Unebia, though their relations with their overworld dwelling neighbors have merely just been neutral. It could be any day that conflict between them will arise.


The frigid north overtaken by frost, Asaylxa. While they temporarily allied with the growing nation in the south, they never decided to assimilate into them. The creatures of the north migrated from distant realms to flee the growing collapse and distortion. It is only time until the cycle reclaims them.

★ Part 3: Technology
Word Count: 773
Magic and technology were two terms that are often used interchangeably, but they also could also mean two different things. The innate power of an individual would not be called technology; however, it could be considered technology if it were to be wielded in a particular way. Enchanting was technology, but it was also magic.
However, this world did not like technology. This world did not enjoy it when technology and magic were explored to tap into its true potential. The cycle destroyed technology and advancement time and time again for its reckless attempts to create immortality. There would be no eternal world, and death could not be conquered. The roots always thirsted for more.
“Do you not want to end the cycle? Do you not want to break free?” The Oracle asked, his face dimly lit by the flickering candle that barely lit the room.
The eternes across from him smiled.
“Yes.”
Immortality was only but a gift given by the gods. The Cyclekeeper was one of them, but he only really ever gave it out to those that he found favorable. It appeared that he lacked foresight, and he was foolish enough to give the one who had a distaste for the cycle the gift of immortality.
Desperation led people down dangerous paths, but when desperation was mixed in with someone with no qualms using others, that became the true danger. At first, she wanted to do a good thing, save her own people from the cycle and destroy the destruction before it could destroy them again.
It started small, weaknesses within those who had been taken in for criminal activity. It only got worse from there. The power of this technology that the eternes created and wielded only got more and more powerful as it was tinkered with. This was the path to breaking the cycle.
She would destroy the darkness, destroy the cycle, and she would take the throne for herself.

The Oracle had given me many blessings and contributions to my work.

He told me that this world was all a lie, that we were all stuck within this sort of “machine” that would only keep perpetually restarting with no end.

We would all die someday. There was no afterlife to look forward to, only the bleak darkness was there to consume us all. Our power would return to the machine to return to the state it was in before we were born.

I want to CONTROL this cycle. I want to destroy this machine and rebuild it so that only I can control it. My perfect paradise. My perfect haven.

The Oracle has given me great insight indeed. Now, I must find a way to conquer the gods so that I may take over this machine that we are a part of.

The first step is to take all of the power for myself. This perfect technology will emulate the machine that we are all a part of, sapping all of the energy and life so that it will be MINE… Then, that is when my plan will begin.

To take the cycle for my own.
-???

The thunder roared above as she was faced with familiar faces, ones that had once loved and praised her before. Her children and her former companions stood before her. Behind them, there were groups of her own subjects there to take her down from her place.
But she was going to destroy the cycle and claim it as her own, and there was nothing stopping her. The Oracle had told her tales and praises of her successes, that she would rule this world.
Power flickered through her gaze as magic sparked at her claw tips; she raised up the weapon that she had been creating. The weapon was a carved ornate, crystalline stone. As her power crackled through the stone, the enchantments immediately activated.

There is a magic we were not supposed to know about. The Oracle told me about it the first day that we met, likely as a way for him to garner my own trust. It certainly intrigued me to know that there was a power that was capable of altering this world.

No matter how hard I tried to find it, I never could. So, I turned to other means. This project that I have called Solenzoi will be the key to taking over the cycle. I aim to emulate this mysterious power through the Solenzoi.

(Drawings with intricate patterns as well as diagrams presenting how the enchantments worked)

Today I will discuss this with the Oracle. Perhaps he has some more insight for me.
-???

★ Part 4: Story
Word Count: 802
It had been years since the reign of terror over Unebia. Even if the tyranny was over, the people of Unebia still found themselves struggling to keep moving forward under the leadership of those related to the Phoenix. Nuchine and Zyqarouz may have taken Unebia back to the people, but their names were stained by her blood. There were a lot of attempts to return Unebia to the glory that it was supposed to be, but there was little hope in the government. No one wanted to remember what had transpired.
Njitru was the child of Nuchine. Many eyes were on him expecting perfection, at least that was how it felt. Nuchine was a hero and a villain to the eyes of the Unebians. While he had taken the throne, there was still contempt towards his bloodline. Somehow, Njitru was meant to make up for the misdeeds of his ancestor.
It was not easy.
He already had a place within the governmental power of Unebia, even at a young age compared to most. His siblings had no care for political matters, but he sought to keep changing how things were. Njitru looked up to his father, even if he rarely got much in return from him, and he wished he could be someone like him.
Njitru knew that there was no way he could be like his father without having to face some sort of conflict.
His self-doubts were what led him to the marketplace that day. Njitru hadn’t bothered to bring any escorts with him to keep him safe, even though his mother begged him to every morning that he left for a walk. That was the thing, there were no existing conflicts since the threat of the svi and the Phoenix, though they were only stories to him.
Njitru paused in front of one of the many statues of the Phoenix that was still going to be torn down. There had been much pushback regarding taking them down, though he could not comprehend why someone would be so connected to a statue depicting someone so dangerous.
He disregarded it, noting it down as yet another thing to talk to his father about.
“Hey, Nee!” An excited voice called out to him. Hmm? Njitru backed up, ruffling the feathers of his wings that were folded to his sides. He glanced over to see Ehari.
“Oh, hey Ari,” Njitru greeted her respectfully as she approached him.
“I did not expect to see you up from Re-Anda so soon.” He blinked. Ehari smiled at him, joining his side to walk with him.
“Yeah! It’s great to be in Unebia. It was a pain to even get a permit to come up again, though. Seriously, you would not believe how many checks we had to go through,” Ehari nodded with a grin.
Njitru sighed at that. He was disgruntled with the way Unebia treated those from the depths. Re-Anda was part of the same land as well in all technicalities. There was no real way to fix it. It was either Re-Anda became a part of Unebia, or Unebia a part of Re-Anda, and neither party wanted to agree to the terms.
“Not really much you can do. If only things weren’t so hostile,” he exhaled, frustration burning within him. Njitru knew that it could have been worse, Unebia could have been in an all-out war against them. At least it was not that hostile.
“What’cha selling this time around? Gemstones yet?” Njitru inquired with a twinkle in his eye. Ehari shook her head, letting out a groan.
“I wish I could actually get them over. There’s still a ban on gemstone imports,” Ehari said, rolling her eyes.
“But… I could probably smuggle something over for ya,” she giggled cheekily, bumping him in the side playfully. Njitru wished it was only that easy, but he knew that she would be imprisoned for quite some time if she were to do that.
Njitru laughed at that before rolling his eyes at her joke, “I’d rather not end up imprisoned by my own father. Sounds like a nightmare for my reputation.”
Ehari snorted.
“Reputation this, reputation that,” she jabbed at him. Njitru frowned before he laughed along with her.
“Hey, I don’t have just a one-track mind,” he retorted.
“You sure have to insert your father or your reputation at least once in a conversation!” Ehari laughed.
“You should be glad I came alone,” Njitru narrowed his eyes threateningly though his grin betrayed his attempt at a threat, if you could call it that. He was pleasantly amused by the banter he was having with his only friend outside of politics, even if they didn’t get to speak much outside of sending letters to each other and whenever Ehari managed to get herself into Unebia temporarily.

Total word count: 2,475

End notes

I do not think part 4 is that great, but it's some goofy silly little banter (ignore the absolute tone switch I put you guys through fr)

weekly 1 | thriller

part 1

in this world there are two regions: the east and the west. the west loves art, history, and culture, and embraces (as long as you follow tradition) most people and things. the east, however, loves new technology and advancement. they often keep this to themselves, though, and only tend to encourage those who fit in their way of things.
the west, which is mostly smaller countries, is all about family. they have big families and bigger family gatherings; everyone knows each other and helps each other out. imagine south america. the people in the west tend to keep their way of life - they hate change with a passion. they're inclusive, but only as inclusive as their traditions. someone doesn't fit the box? you're still someone's child, but the blame goes on the immediate family for such a ‘wrongdoing’. someone invents something new? we've already got something that does that, head east where you belong. (generally they say this in a loving way, like we don't care but there are people who do.) then the eastern invention from twenty years ago hits the west and they love it.
the east is basically the opposite. find your friends; they're the most important people, the people you actually choose. it's probably like this because of a centuries-old cycle of focus on the friends -> therefore parenting is irrelevant -> oh look everyone's parents are horrible make friends. people love new things and aspire to be catalysts of change. the east is more independent. it's still stuck in old, exclusive tradition though, if you have any disease or disorder it's not our problem. there is technology supporting marginalised people, it's just not pushed into the wider society.
there are many religions in this world, and many have to do with the spirits inhabiting most things. for example, thlaramuh worships the spirits, seeking peace from peace with them. as a result, spirits are abundant in countries that almost entirely practice this religion. on the other hand, there are religions like gutsodetse, which believes that spirits are unnatural beings from the realm of the dead and should go back there. there is also achpryhiv, which focuses more on nature and the spirits in natural things.
369 words

—
part 2

my aesthetic boards are for a huge mountain range in the east, a big city on the middle island, and the general culture and geography of the western continent
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1143428219/

—
part 3

I never cared much for religion. Religion got my mother killed, when she went into the forest thinking the spirits would protect her and went out sliced in two. People still laugh at me for the day I cursed the pryhiv. People still tell me I can't make things because I'm a woman, too, and then I show them my three approved inventions. Wouldn't they like to know how I did it.
Wouldn't I like to know how to get this blasted. Machine. Working.
What sort of thing in the world is going to power a human-driven carriage?
I shoo away a grass pryhiv - blasted thing still thinks I like it - as I slowly turn the mechanism I've got, turning the wheels forward and backward. The pryhiv races back into the grass, flying incredibly fast, a tiny streak of yellow-green going faster than a racehorse… if only I could capture it. If that thing powered the carriage, it could very well change the world.
-
“This is a self-powered carriage, sir.”
“Self-powered? That is impossible.”
“Well, powered from within. It hasn't got a horse in front of it. Sir.”
“And show me this power source.”
This is the bit I'm nervous about. The government say they don't care about religions, but everyone's a blasted achpryiv. This guy probably has the grounds to reject this just on the fact that it's powered by some spirit. I show it to him anyway - well, explain it, I'm not letting that thing get out again - and wait for his reply.
And wait.
“There's no way they can escape, is there?”
I almost crumple to the floor in relief. “I don't think so, sir, but it hasn't been tested under intense conditions, sir.”
He smiles. “There's no need to call me ‘sir’ that much. Show me the rest of it.”
I talk him through the way it's powered, the brakes, the storage space in the front where the horse would normally go. He nods and smiles the whole time. I can never be sure if that's a good thing. Maybe what he said earlier was just trying to lower my guard so he could give me false hope and-
“If it were only me, I would approve it.”
I almost let the excitement out already. If the power source wasn't so contentious, it'd be in regardless of what the jury said.
But the power source is the thing most people in the east worship. This man has a lot of sway, but technically only one vote in a jury of six.
The man leaves the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway until he reaches the gold door, going into the discussion that decides my fate.
-
So only half a country likes my carts, and it's not even my own.
So what?
Isia, master of rough terrain, driving carts designed for flat terrain. They look a bit funny when you're standing off the road, zooming by themselves like little toys. Always feels like a strange dream where all the horses just got up and left. Funny that the people who barely believe in spirits want something that proves them wrong so much. Anything for convenience.
A man comes up to me, hiding something behind his back. “You the one who made these carts?”
“Yeah.”
He goes to take the thing out, then pauses. “You sure?”
“Yes,” I laugh. Is that metal?
“Not just someone pretending to be?”
Wait. Blast. It's a sword. Is he trying to…
I bunch my skirt and run for my cart.
598 words

—
part 4

“You ready?” Aki murmured.
Natalya took a deep breath and nodded.
Together, they looked up at the great peak, burdened with chunks of ice and rock that held on to it for dear life. There was a pryiv curling around the peak like a great worm, its ethereal form blinking in and out of sight, smaller spirits gravitating towards it. Aki, scanning for places to rest, found an opening not far up. He placed his gloved hand on the stone and climbed.
Natalya followed, boots swinging off the ground. They carved each other footholds, each taking turns to be in front, Aki pointing out the opening when they got close. Natalya badly needed a joke to ease the tension, but she wouldn't break Aki's concentration. Instead, she focused on his feet in front of her, placing her fingers in his handholds and looking for danger.
Aki, out of breath, hoisted himself onto a platform and watched Natalya's ice-streaked face rise up, her body resting next to his.
“There's the cave I told you about,” he said, pointing to the right.
“I think I'd like to sit and enjoy the view.”
They sat for a few moments, her head resting on his shoulder, looking down on faint green land broken occasionally by clouds, feeling the icy breeze at their boots and the hints of warmth through each other's thick coats. Natalya moved to stand up, and Aki followed, peering down the hole and watching the pallid rays of sun brush the rocks. They glanced at each other for confirmation, but they already knew.
Aki secured the rope to a boulder, and Natalya lowered herself in.
It was warmer in here, and the darkness was almost comforting, the shadows lined with tiny ice pryiv. Natalya let herself relax slightly as she swung on the rope, bracing to land on a rock just left of where the rope ended. The soft thump of her landing echoed through the cave.
Aki followed her, noticing the hints of green struggling through the cracks and lush vines in the sun's path further down. The rocks were laced with veins of ice-blue and amethyst-purple and cloudy white. The lake below, completely clear, shimmered in the weak sunlight as Aki swung to land on the rock next to it, leaving the rope dangling above the water.
They looked to the left, at the real cave, and it was breathtaking.
It was life's shelter, with everything from bats to great spirits. One of the vines curled in when Natalya brushed it. They stood there for a moment, still on the sunlight's edge, hesitating on the precipice of another world.
Aki took one careful step into the darkness. Natalya mirrored him, shivering.
And they were like lions set free, prowling through this land of shadows and feeding the stomach of their curiosity, taking mental notes of some of the strange ones - a small birdlike creature with slick feathers, a very stocky wolf, a short-eared rabbit that mimicked Natalya's words. But not Aki's. And of course, there were the bats covering the cave in a sheet of uniform black, their wings too large to be normal. Sometimes a chill ran down their spines, and the animals ducked for shelter at the same moment, but neither of them said a word about it. It was just the cold.
Until it clearly wasn't.
The spirit began as a trail of ice crystals on the wall that definitely weren't there before.
They were puzzled at first. This was another object to study, was it not? It was unusual that the ice formed scale-like patterns, but not frightening. The scales could form naturally, they just needed to analyse it more to fully understand the phenomenon… that one had what looked eerily like a serpent's underbelly. Aki whispered to Natalya about the traces of powerful spirits on the physical plane, and she turned for the light.
The light was gone.
The opening had been closed off.
Natalya turned back to the cave and felt death press around her.
A giant head erupted from the cave wall. The animals that had thrived here were missing in the presence of this monster, this spirit that could have been born of the frost itself. Natalya's heart thumped in her chest. She knew it could hear her, see her fear. She was frozen. Frozen in fear like the mountains themselves. The beast's jaws opened, and she saw fear and metal and pain. Aki managed a squeak.
The pryiv didn't speak, but a harsh thunder echoed in their minds. Why are you here?
Aki opened his mouth, looking over at Natalya's still form, but tried using his mind first. How did one even do that? He thought, We just wanted to explore, and imagined the message going to the pryiv.
I do not need you to tell me, it said. I know that is not your intention.
Aki froze. What would the spirit do if it thought they were here for other reasons? He would say something if it weren't for the fear coursing through his body. Natalya was still trying to get thought back, her eyes locked on the fury in the spirit's translucent face, not daring to move. Aki was trying to take the burden off her, but was there any way to save them in the first place?
I have examined you both. You are free to leave, the pryiv said.
Just like that?
Yes. It could read his mind? Every human that seeks me does so with destructive intent, except for you.
The great ice spirit's head vanished, leaving an afterimage of ice, as Natalya and Aki heard a mighty crack above them and light streamed in.
They were free.
971 words

1938 words total

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

◪ Critique 1
Wordcount: 346
Person critiqued: –Artsy_Girl–
Their work: March 2nd Daily
Cabin: Bi-Fi

Winter is bitter on my tongue.

Okay, I IMMEDIATELY love this beginning. I'm not sure if it's just me, but I absolutely love analogies where personification takes place, whether it be with seasons, animals, or even non-living items like a paper and a pen. I love how this captures the interest of a person who might be browsing through the megathread to find pieces to read.

It smells of luxury, and anything luxurious must be placed on display, so that every time I might look at it, it would fill my heart with pleasure.

I think it's because of the lack of sleep (probably it is), but I had to reread this sentence a few times to understand what it meant. Though I don't think it's really the writing's fault but more of my own since I don't usually write in present tense. People who do so have my utmost respect- whenever I try to, I always gradually switch back to “was”s and “were”s.

Money is something sweet to hear, and I find I’m missing the predictable sound of a penny dropped on the ground.

UGHHHHH I LOVE THIS LINE SO MUCH! I think it really is just me who adores Personification like this. It makes the writing so eatable (that's a weird sentence to type out), and it just makes it so much more enthralling and enhances the aspects of the sentence! Often, whenever we have things we need readers to imagine in a certain way, we spell it out too obviously, leaving no place for imagination, which is what readers like books for in the first place. With personification, we can give them the bigger picture in a shorter and sweeter way, while leaving place for them to adjust the details how they want!

My attention shifts to the trash that I’ve pushed away, where the sky reflects off of something gold. I reach out to touch the something and realize it’s a small chalice.

When she says, “I reach out to touch the something”, I feel like we could change “the something” to slightly different wording. We could say “the gold object” or “shiny item” since it draws more attention to the item itself rather than the action, since that's what this paragraph is focusing on.“The something” also feels a little out of place in the sentence for me.

Overall, this small excerpt is honestly so cool, and if this is a full chapter or story somewhere, I would LOVE to read it! It's already piqued my interest, and I absolutely love your writing style so much <3

return to table of contents
Word War with @BwnnyRxbbit
“Legend has it that the land of Eudaemonia was founded in the period of the ‘Greek civilisation’ - going by Underworld terms. Legend has it also that Androkles, the great Founder of the glorious land of Eudaemonia, was then only a hundred years old. If this age is not at all impressive in our world, then in the Underworld, Humans rarely ever reached half of that. Our Founder was congratulated and praised for his health and old age, he was regarded as the wisest man in the whole of the Greek Empire in the Underworld. Yet he was also regarded as strange and unusual. It appeared that Humans /feel/ more than Eudaemonians do - they possess some strange kind of blood in their heart that sometimes makes them express themselves with high-pitched squeals, grunts, or even stranger more, makes the water in their eyes overflow. Androkles, of course, did not show any sign of this weird behaviour, and for the Humans he was living with, this was a very strange phenomena. The Humans used words such as ‘expressionless’ and ‘unfeeling’ to describe our Founder.

Years passed by still and when the Great Androkles' health showed no sign of declining, Humans began to feel that something wasn't right. Rumours began spreading in the Underworld, some claiming that Androkles was one of these gods the Humans believed, that he had come from Olympus upon the mortals - and that he was /immortal/.
Androkles, who at that time did not know of his true identity, thought upon this word carefully. Immortal. His old age meant that he was different from the others. Years passed until he began to think that he might be from a different species - he had never believed himself a god and despite trying to recollect some blurry memories, he was convinced from a strange kind of feeling that his hometown was not Mt. Olympus.

At two hundred years old, Androkles was still as agile and strong as he had ever been. On this very day five thousand years ago, the Founder decided to leave the Underworld, for he began getting visions during the night about another realm, the world he truly belonged in. An unknown power guided our Founder, until he climbed to the very top of the highest mountain in the Underworld. There, a chariot was waiting for him. Still guided by this unknown power, he mounted it, and it carried him right to the vast field that would become the Eudaemonia we know today.

And with that, I declare to all Eudaemonians, the official five thousandth anniversary of our well-beloved land!”
(433 words)

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭୨ Unconditional Love to a Killer ୧ ⊹ ˚₊‧

TRIGGER WARNING! MENTIONS OF EXECUTION AND MURDER, DO NOT READ IF SENSITIVE TO THAT!

I pushed the door open, listening to the loud creaking sound it made. When I opened my eyes, I took in the holding cell. The walls of my room were a dark green color, while the person on the other side of the glass had beige walls. The fluorescent lights were an eyesore, hurting my eyes far more than I would’ve liked. But I shook it off, I wasn’t to leave, not yet at least.

I stared at the woman sitting on the other side of the clear glass, the years having aged her and made her just hardly recognizable. Her black hair sat on her shoulders, clearly having not been brushed in a while. It hadn’t been cut either, as her bangs drooped over her eyes.

She was a murderer.

“Hello.”

Her eyes snapped up, detail-oriented and alert. She had always been this way, I just never imagined she would use it in this way. When her eyes honed on me, her eyes narrowed, like a predator ready to pounce on their prey.

“You…Who do you think you are- waltzing in here like this?” The woman seethed at me, gritting her teeth together, I attempted to remain composed.

“Oh? I’m sorry, am I not allowed to visit?”
“You haven’t shown up for the past- what? 5 years I’ve been here? And you just now decided to come!?”
“Of course, we both know what’s tomorrow after all.”

The woman paled at this, before quickly regaining the color in her skin. She stood up from her chair, staring me down. It was like those staring contests we’d have all too much as kids.

“You- of course it’s because of that! Of course you only care when I’m about to be-”
“You know why I didn’t show up! I was planning my wedding!”
“Oh yeah, because whoever you’re head over heels for is much more important than your family! You should know this! We all agree that family is more important than your romantic life!”
“You stopped being family after you decided to become a serial killer!”
“Hey…! Y-You’re my big brother- Aren’t you-?!”
“You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore. Not- not after what you’ve done.”

We both sat in silence for a long time after that. The woman before me was a serial killer, someone not to be trusted. She killed plenty of people, but she wasn’t only a serial killer. She was also my sister.

“So? How long will we both be sitting here? I’m sorry, but I came to talk.” I put my hand on my chest in mock hurt, seeing the woman not grow any less tense. She only stared, the same stiffness to her posture. Though, a glare on her face was unmistakable. She did scare me, but my face remained stoic. After all, she was still just my little sister.

“What is there to talk about? I was in jail for the past 5 years, I haven’t exactly done anything new.”

“Well, there’s tomorrow. You know, your-”
“Quit rubbing salt into the wound would you!? Yes, we both get it.”

The silence grew thick, thick and suffocating. I opened my mouth to break it, to relieve some of the tension. Though, to my surprise, she was the one to break the tension first.

“Who’s the girl you’re marrying?” she sneered, an obvious invitation to mockery. Her eyes were sharp as knives.
“Well…remember that girl from 6th grade? The cute brown-haired one with the pink highlights?” I said, attempting to make my voice sound casual. I wouldn’t let her intimidation tactics work on me.
“Her?” The woman rolled her eyes, “Of course it was her.” Another moment of silence followed, her eyes lighting up in realization, before they became dull again. “…I bet 5 dollars on that. I knew it!” A low chuckle escaped her lips, it was almost uncanny to be hearing that laugh now. “You owe me 5 dollars!” Her face remained the same, but her voice’s tone and that spark in her eyes made her look less intimidating, less scary.

Less like a murderer.

For a brief moment, it sounded like we were back in our bedroom, talking about our crushes and middle school drama.
For a brief moment, it felt like I was talking to the starry-eyed girl my sister once was.
For a brief moment, it felt like I wasn’t talking to a serial killer.


For a brief moment, it felt like everything was back to normal.


“No way she managed to fall for you, that girl probably deserves better.” It was obviously meant to be a snide comment, but her tone had that same tone of teasing she used all those years ago. Before she was caught. Before she changed.
“Hey! Respect your elders! I’ll let you know that I am a gentleman!”

But…Did she ever really change?

“I wish I could get married…” My sister muttered, staring down at her own hands. I saw multiple shiny tears fall down onto the table. She looked up at me, eyes red.

The killer looking at me was my sister.
And her name was Alicia, though I would call her Ali for short when we were younger.

“I- I don’t wanna die.”

When I stared into Alicia’s eyes, I no longer saw someone so soulless. I no longer saw someone so cold-hearted. I no longer saw someone who I had thought to be a monster.

I no longer saw the eyes of a killer.
I only saw the eyes of my younger sister.

“A…Alicia…?”

“I-I don’t want to disappear! I still want to do so many things! I’ve never been to Tokyo! I’ve never been in a relationship! P-Please! A-Aiden! I don’t wanna go! I’m going to be executed tomorrow and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it!”

I don’t want you to die either.

A tear rolled down my sister’s cheek, “Y-You know, I told myself I wouldn’t cry. Even when I‘m about to be executed tomorrow, even though I know I’m gonna die tomorrow. But- But then you- you showed up. Please, Aiden! I can’t- I can’t die here!”

“A-Alicia…”

I sat there, no idea what to say. She was my sister, I didn’t want her to die either. But…she was a killer. Did the people she killed want to die?

“I haven’t realized it- how many things I still want to do! There’s still- so many…So many things I want to do!”

I stared at her, shock plaguing my whole body. My bottom lip tremored, I backed away slightly. I stared at my sister, wide-eyed. I tried to convince myself she deserved to die. But no matter how long I looked at her, no matter how much I tried to make myself see a cold killer.

I only saw my sister.

“Ali?”
“A-Aiden! Please, stay with me, I don’t wanna die!”

I opened my mouth, I was about to tell her everything would be okay. I wanted to tell her that it’d be alright, that I would be with her forever.
But we both knew that was a lie.
I was many things, but I refused to be a liar.

I didn’t say anything, if I didn’t say anything I wouldn’t have to say the truth, but I wouldn’t have to lie either. The only noise in the room was my sister’s sniffles.

“A-Aiden…?”

She was met with no response. The silence was deafening. But the silence was broken by the sound of an opening door. I turned around to see a police officer standing there.

“Visiting hours are over.”

I stared at him, and then I stared back at my sister, a tear flowing down her cheek.

“I-I have to go now!”

I walked to the door, not letting the fear prevent me from moving forward.

“Sorry.” I muttered, but it was so quiet only I could hear it. I was too much of a coward to let Alicia hear it.

I took a step forward, and only one noise filled my ears. I will never get what I heard out of my head, it’ll stay with me until the day I die.

I only heard my sister crying, pleading for her big brother to come back. Begging for her brother to be there with her. I heard her sob, a moment of weakness and vulnerability. Something I never expected to see on her after what she did, but even after what she did, I still wanted to love her.

Because she was my sister.

She was my sister and I left the room. I left the holding cell. I left and went home. I left my sister there, sobbing and crying for her brother.

—–

I cried a lot today, I cried in my holding cell after my brother left. I had red, puffy eyes today, for today was now the day I’d be executed, the day that I would die. I was alone in the execution room. I asked for a wedding cake as my last meal, so for a brief moment I could pretend I was at my brother’s wedding, so I could act like I was a good little sister. I was to be executed by lethal injection, fear and anticipation coursed through my veins, since I didn’t know when the injection would kick in.

I don’t wanna die.

—–

No one heard the screams from my sister the day of her execution, the day she died.
And no one heard my guttural sobs when her ashes appeared on my doorstep.

| ♞ | ୨ 1588 words

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭୨ WEEKLY ONE ୧ ⊹ ˚₊‧

PART ONE:

Write 350 words describing the language and culture of those who inhabit your glorious world!

Welcome to the country of Munsia, a distant place wiped off of most maps. People here usually live in either the city or distant temples, no inbetween.

The people in the cities typically don’t believe in gods or deities, though they believe in spirits and curses. The ideal occupation for most people in the cities is to be exorcists, as they have quite a high pay and people always feel safer as exorcists. Most people work gathering food for markets, the currency used is called ‘dalcs’. Dalcs are a very strong currency, and inflation has never been a problem. People in a city live under the guidance of spirits, as they are thought to be elders to the people. Some spirits try to lead people astray, or haunt the people, which is what exorcists are for. Exorcists live under a very strict set of rules, and they are told to never exorcise a spirit unless they cause any harm to people. Exorcists are near the top of the social pyramid, and are thought to be the protectors of cities. They always have work, since evil spirits are always wandering around. Exorcists will expel curses from people, and also get rid of evil spirits. But, if they are to exorcise a regular spirit, they will be executed.

On the other hand, people who live in temples have devoted their entire lives to the deity they are worshiping, children born by families in temples will be raised within the temple, and are typically prohibited from leaving until they turn 18, which is the age they will start doing practices for the deities. Children born in temples are expected to carry the family’s legacy, and often do not get a choice in if they wish to continue worshipping the deity or not. If they choose not to follow the religion they were born in, they will often be ridiculed, as they are not following what is thought to be the norm. One of the most prominent religions in the country is called Kunism, which worships the deity named Kumo, a god with spider-like features.

In fact, there have been rumors of a spider-like girl wandering a forest near the city of Soyto…


Spirits set the rules for people to follow, and are also who judges people thought to have committed crimes. They are the only species higher than exorcists. However, if a spirit falsely punishes someone or wreaks havoc, exorcists are immediately given permission to exorcise them. Every week, exorcists are sent letters on what spirits to exorcise. Some people can also be cursed by spirits or other unknown entities, which is also the job of exorcists to remove the curse from the person’s body.

People in temples are no exception, and follow the rule of spirits. People in temples are known for being orderly, so the stepping in of spirits are rarely needed. Although, recently a girl from one of the temples ran away and has gone missing, and spirits quickly got involved.

People living in temples see spirits as the messengers of deities, and that after death the deity has sent them down to protect the people. While people living in the city simply see them as people who have been lost in the past, and are now guiding the living.

Humans cannot see spirits, they only can if they come into possession of an object possessed by the spirit, or enter a place possessed by a spirit. One of the most famous urban legends was a tunnel that was possessed by the spirit of a young exorcist, who died by the hands of a spirit. Many have entered the cave, but all were chased out. Spirits can only interact with objects, excluding the object of their possession. They can interact with people who are in possession of their object, and can only be heard by people with their object. Only certain spirits are communicated with, which are spirits trusted with judgement. Spirits can prove themselves to the people of being trusted, which have to be approved by already trusted spirits. It is forbidden to come in contact with spirits if you do not work in exorcism or law, and if you do work in law you will work under guidance of spirits. If you find any possessed items, you must immediately hand them to an exorcist to keep safe.

Spirits will eventually have to pass on, which is a rite done by exorcists. If a spirit feels ‘fulfilled’ they will ask an exorcist to be exorcised, but can only be exorcised under certain conditions. Conditions being how long they’ve been a spirit for, and what they have done. If they fulfill conditions, exorcists will be allowed to exorcise them. This is the only condition in which they can exorcise a spirit that has done no wrong.


Most people in Munsia speak one common language, but people who live in temples typically use a different dialect. However, the language is still recognizable, slight pronunciation differences are all that tells the dialects apart.

| ♞ | ୨ 841 words


PART TWO:

For this next part, you're going to create three aesthetic boards capturing important places, cultures and biomes in your story. Ensure that your aesthetic board includes at least five images.

PART THREE:

For this part, you will be adding unique technology to your world and writing 500 words about a conflict that occurs because of it.

One of the most common problems when it came to exorcism was the lack of a 100% success rate. There were far too many times when an evil spirit evaded capture due to a simple mistake. Exorcism was a hard job to have, after all, there was a great amount of precision required for the job. That’s part of the reason why it was such a prestigious job.

Many people spent many years attempting to make exorcisms easier to perform, a simpler, easier, way for exorcists. It was an important job, so there needed to be as little room for failure as possible.

So, one day, a man by the name of Kai Ito claimed to have created a device that could exorcise spirits by itself, many people were intrigued. The possibility to revolutionize exorcism was insane, as it would almost guarantee the safety of the people.

Kai first proposed the idea to the famed exorcist of Soyto, Akito Yamamoto. He was skeptical at first, as the idea was something people had been dreaming about for years. It wouldn’t be an easy feat for people to do something like it after all. But, reluctantly, he agreed to test the invention.

They tested the machine out in an old hut on the outskirts of the city, a place of one of Akito’s jobs. When they tested the machine, it worked. For the spirit Akito was to exorcise disappeared, gone in an instant. It was revolutionary, Akito went back to his place of work to let the ghost in charge know of the invention. But when Akito clasped the ghost’s possessed item, the ghost never arrived.

The machine had exorcised every spirit in Soyto, and the inventor was shortly sentenced to death. It took 13 years for the spirit population to come back to normal. People were lost with no one to guide them, and the city of Soyto crumbled. People couldn’t be judged, and in those 13 years crime ran rampant. There were no spirits to act as a judge, so people were never sentenced, as they had depended on spirits to tell judgement, since spirits could be where humans couldn’t, and would be able to accurately pass judgement. The exorcists in Soyto had no job, as no spirits meant no work for them. Those 13 years were some of the worst for Soyto’s history. Kai Ito was remembered as a terrible man.

Those 13 years were known as the 13 Year Long Darkness. When the spirit population returned to normal from mostly wandering spirits. However, many people were killed and sacrificed in order for them to become spirits, and have the population return to normal.

Further developments on exorcisms were outlawed, and exorcisms stayed as a job only for humans. Attempts to change the current way of exorcisms were forbidden, and all exorcists were to only use the current technique. Any other developments would be considered dangerous, as everyone was wary of changing the way of exorcisms after the 13 Year Long Darkness.

| ♞ | ୨ 503 words


PART THREE:

Whether it's an alien landscape or a fantastical paradise, write 800 words of a story introducing your world.

I sat behind the desk, sighing as I organized my talismans together. It was always nice to stay tidy. After all, I couldn’t exactly afford to mess anything up by being messy. My job was important, I was an exorcist after all. I purged those who were evil and led others astray. I tied my hair back and wore my work uniform. It was a simple robe, its intention being to leave lots of room for movement, an important part of being an exorcist. I stared at my reflection in the window, my earring dangling from my ear. Perfect.

I opened my bag to check I had everything I needed, a crucifix, holy water, talismans, and my grimoire. My small notebook for taking notes on the ghost staying in my sleeve, I needed to be able to take it out quickly after all. Taking notes on the type of ghost it was helped me figure out how to go about getting rid of it.

A soft jingle sounded behind me, I turned around.

“Sorry, we’re not ope-”

I saw the delivery boy, he came every Saturday in the early morning, he was holding a delicately folded envelope. I walked over and he handed it to me.

“Delivery for Mr. Kobayashi!”

I chuckled, “No need to be so formal, Taro.”
“Yes Mister Ayato Sir!”

I let out a full laugh this time, “See you next week, kid.”

The kid closed his bag and began to walk down the street. I opened the envelope, staring at the words that stared back. Looking to see what ghosts were to be exorcised this week. I perked an eyebrow up at the first name.

Yuri Yoharo - Resides in the Urashima Tunnel

The ghost of the Urashima Tunnel was a myth as old as time; some people, either brave or stupid, would enter the tunnel in search of the ghost. All of them were chased out. From what I knew, they had never hurt anyone, so why was I to exorcise them?

Knowing who was in charge of the list, I found the old bracelet in my drawer, I clasped the bracelet in my palm. I knew they were here at the moment, the room was awfully cold.

“Oi, Luxa, mind explaining this list to me? Why am I chasing after the Urashima ghost?”

Luxa appeared out of nowhere, him being a ghost and all. I rolled my eyes and sighed. He laughed behind me, light and giggly.

“This ghost is thought to be involved with the disappearance of a temple girl! Many reports think he killed her, since someone reported someone looking like that missing girl entering the tunnel, and never coming back!”

I nodded, the news of the missing girl was the talk of the town. People rarely went missing, so it was quite big, especially considering the fact the girl was 17, just one year away from beginning practices for her religion.

I especially hated ghosts who hurt children, they were the ones I always made sure to get rid of as soon as I could. I wasn’t always so stoic unlike how others may paint me as.

“…Let’s go then.”
“You mean you go? Y’know I’m not allowed to come to exorcisms with you, or else you might accidentally exorcise me!”

I rolled my eyes, “You know what I meant, Luxa.”

Luxa laughed at me as I left, double checking I had all of the possessions I needed. Crucifix, holy water, grimoire, and talismans. Alongside the notebook shoved in my sleeve.

I made my way to the forest path, which would take me to the Urashima tunnel. It was in a deep part of the forest, which was enough to scare kids into going. It was mostly bored teens who decided to seek out the Urashima ghost. If you heard a scream in the forest, no one was too worried about it. It was mostly assumed to be from those who ventured into the tunnel.

Though, a few weeks ago, there was a blood-curdling scream coming from the forest late at night…

I shook my head, continuing down the path. The humming of cicadas filled my eardrums, I watched my city grow smaller. I could take a wagon to the tunnel, but I always need to stay fit. Plus, it’s relaxing to be walking down the path.

Eventually, I found the Urashima tunnel, concealed by the greenery. I waved it out of the way and took a step in. It immediately got significantly colder, I took out my vial of holy water, it seemed like it was beginning to freeze. A ghost that triggered freezing temperatures, they’d have to be a fairly powerful ghost in that case then.

”Oho~ it seems I have another visitor!”

My head snapped up immediately, eyes darting around to find the ghost, “Who’s there!?”

”Many have come before you, what really makes you think you’ll be different from them?”

Giggles echoed off the walls, this ghost felt like an unsettling version of Luxa. sweat pricked at the back of my neck despite the cold.

”Let’s see your face now, shall we?”

A spirit appeared before me, his hair was tied back in a ponytail, he was also wearing exorcist robes. Well, the rumors did say he was an exorcist who died from a spirit.

”Oh! So you’re an exorcist! Y’know I was one too! Before a spirit got me!”
“Quit talking, you know why I’m here.” I fumbled around with my bag, yanking the crucifix out of my bag alongside my grimoire. I held the crucifix up, reciting the prayers I have memorized by heart.

”Aw man, you’re trying to exorcise me? What did little ol’ me do?”
“I don’t wanna hear it, we both know you did something to that temple girl.”
”Temple girl-? Wait- do you mean Kumo?”
“She was last seen entering here; and she never came out.”
”Wait- you think I-”

The spirit began to laugh, I could tell that my prayers had not done anything to the ghost, though I knew it’d take more considering the fact that the spirit seemed to be fairly powerful. I yanked the talisman out of my bag.

“Alright, c’mon, let’s go!”

”Kumo! Get a load of this! This exorcist thinks I did something to ya!”
“Really? We both know you only can scare people mentally, but you never do anything physical. You tried punching me once and it was just…sad”
”Hey!”

I paused at the new voice, it was the voice of a girl. Was this ‘Kumo’ person the girl who went missing?

“Hey.”

I snapped my head back, faced with a strange hybrid of girl and spider. They had red skin, and 6 eyes, 3 on both sides. Additionally, 4 extra arms sprouted from her back. She looked like, well- a spider. I remembered hearing rumors of a spider-like girl wandering the forest, I never figured they were true. Could she potentially be under some sort of possession or curse?

“W-What the- who-!?”

I threw a talisman at the girl(?), which clung onto the girl and seemed to seal something away. As she returned back to her regular appearance, just that, a girl. That was, until the talisman ripped itself apart, and fell onto the ground, turned the girl back to her spider-like form.

“…I tried doing that already.” The girl sighed and looked at me, “Listen, Yuri didn’t do this to me. In fact, he’s helping me. He couldn’t hurt me even if he tried. How about you turn back and go back to doing whatever you exorcists do. I grew up in a temple so you’re the first exorcist I’ve ever seen, besides Yuri that is.”

“I- um.” I sputtered for a moment, “Okay?”

I crouched down to pick up the talismans I had dropped, before I found an earring on the ground. I decided to grab it, maybe I could keep it.

“Hey! Only Kumo can have that!” The spirit exclaimed, which made me flinch since I forgot he was here.
“…Why?”
“Kumo gets it because that’s the object I possess! So she can still communicate with me when she’s outside.”
“Wait- you have a possessed place, and object?”
“Teehee! Yep! I’m special!”

Interesting, I had never met a ghost who could possess both a place and an object. Fascinating.

“Ugh, Luxa’s gonna flip when I have to explain this to him.”
“Luxa? Is that the ghost in charge of the list?”
“Yep, you used to be an exorcist, you know how it works.”
“Tell him that I am a law-abiding ghost and I do not deserve to be exorcised!”
“This is like, the third ghost that was falsely accused of needing an exorcism I’ve had. Interesting.”
“I only had 5 when I was alive!”
“Can’t believe I’m the first person to have a civil conversation with the Urashima ghost. And also figure out that spider legend.”

A new voice piped up, I knew she was the temple girl due to the fact she pronounced her words a bit differently, the dialect from Kunism temples.

“They made a legend after me?”

| ♞ | ୨ 1519 words

(This is from March SWC last year, and it's from the perspective of a Villa in Pompeii-)
I enjoy being beautiful. It’s a privilege that I know that I have. Frescos and mosaics line my walls, statues bejewel my gardens, and a family laughs and cries within my painted walls.
Today, they cried, and I cried along with them.

Pompeii was a happy place, filled with the prosperous. I was the pride of the family that resided inside me. They owned only the finest things and only commissioned the most talented artists. They had elaborate dinners within my triclinium and relaxed among the plants in my gardens. But now those plants were burned to ash, my glamorous walls preserved underneath the dense layer of ash that rained down from Vesuvius.

The day started off so normal, so benign. Of course, there were darker clouds in the sky, but nobody cared, it was probably just a storm. Only the truly paranoid would be leaving at a time like this.
The master of the house was not one of the paranoid, believing that everything was fine. He was going out that day.
“I have some business to tend to.”
His wife, Julia, asked, “When will you return?”
Marcus shrugged, “I don’t know, probably not until we eat cena.”
She nodded, reclining on a couch in their cubiculum. “I look forward to your return.”
He nodded as well, walking out a moment later. I followed him through the rest of me, till he eventually emerged into the street, leaving his wife and children inside.

Time passed, and Marcus returned to his house just in time for a meal. The sky had continued to get darker, and the air smelled faintly of smoke, though it wasn’t too concerning at the moment. The family went outside to eat, and when they emerged, the smoke began to rain.

Part 1
759 words

I swung my legs over the side of the stone wall, the sharp edges cutting into my legs. For a moment I just sat there, soaking in the amber sunlight that filtered through the clouds, lighting up the city below in a gentle golden glow. A smile danced across my lips as I gazed at the twinkling lights, the buzz of people bustling through the streets, even at this late hour, tourists or locals, filling up bags and baskets with all sorts of things.

Our market was one of the most famed in the Ruby Islands, named after the colours of our water, a deep rich red, caused by the iron in our waters. It sparkled like a jewel in the setting sun, people lining the beaches with their glimmering white sands.
The market was full of stalls, stretching for miles and making up about three quarters of our city. Some stalls had even eventually turned into houses, the owners building around them, brick by brick, stone by stone. The most common thing they sold was food. There were all kinds, people from the Sapphire and Emerald Islands bringing along some of their produce to sell at our market, even some from Amethyst, an isolated island hundreds of miles from here. We were famous for our signature food, cardasens, which were soft pillowy buns filled with a paste of cardas, a type of fruit only found in our mangroves, and usually drizzled with a lemon and siratas, a type of nut also only found in our mangroves. They were also known as mangrove buns.
We also sold lots of fruit and vegetables from all around the islands, my personal favourite being atlasstis, a fruit similar to a banana but a lot more sour and hard. There were some stalls selling meats, the carcasses hanging from rusty chains, flies buzzing around them. Some stalls sold delicious buttery pastries and intricately iced cakes, some selling different ornaments and knitted items. I loved the Cratatian stalls, which were based on the Island’s religion, Crata. They sold little ornaments of the different people we believed our gods had inhabited and statutes of the gods themselves. I had all of mine lined up in my room, displaying proudly on my windowsill. We prayed to them every morning, the whole city staying quiet for twenty minutes, and at the end of that twenty minutes the bells would gong and we would start singing our prayers and chanting in our native language, Malitui.

Another thing I loved about our city were the mangrove houses, which were scattered in between the branches of the mangroves, on platforms just above the water. There lived most of our fishing community and I just loved their houses, which were always strung with glittering fairy lights. I myself lived in one of the underground homes, which were where the poorer people lived. However, in our little dugouts, we had created some beautiful homes, enhancing them with skylights and saving up for materials to build proper safe walls and ceilings. Mine was one of the biggest, with my bedroom between a group of fiercely pointed stalagmites. We had also built a stunning community and we met up every solstice, and we would sing and praise the gods for helping us safely through another season.
Another thing I loved, which I know you wouldn’t find anywhere else in the world from researching tirelessly in school about all the other countries who didn’t even realise we existed was the music. It seemed so normal to me, but after listening to tapes of music from the other countries, I realised how lucky we were. My favourite instrument was the tocmai, which was made out of mangrove wood and shaped like a bunch of tubes stuck together with some keys on the tubes and some foot pedals which attached to strings like on a violin from the other countries. The mangrove wood was particularly special, as it was found nowhere else and created a rich deep sound that resonated deeply within me. We also had a lot of rock bands, like the rest of the world, who performed daily in the city square to huge crowds filled with screaming fans.
Our whole city was settled right on the edge of a beach next to the mangroves and the outskirts were nestled between the mountains.

And as I sat on the stone wall, my legs swinging rhythmically, I finally understood what a magical place I was in and how lucky I was to be here.